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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26372410">It's A Kinda Magic</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/uglywombat/pseuds/uglywombat'>uglywombat</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bisexual Female Character, Explicit Language, F/F, Fingering, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Giant Rat Beasts, Humour, Lesbian Character, Lesbian Sex, Lucid Dreaming, Oral Sex, Orgasms, Scientist Reader, Secret Crush, Smut, Witchcraft, bucky is a good friend</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 06:48:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,558</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26372410</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/uglywombat/pseuds/uglywombat</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Oops!... Tony did it again! SHIELD employees have been cursed after Iron Man pissed off a witch and you are not exempt. Your dreams are about to come true with the woman you have crushed on for months thanks to Tony, a witch and cat feet.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Brunnhilde | Valkyrie (Marvel)/Original Female Character(s), Brunnhilde | Valkyrie (Marvel)/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>31</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>It's A Kinda Magic</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Thank you Caffiend for beta'ing, my queen!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“I know your secret.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The breath catches in the deepest part of your chest, your lungs painfully seizing as you work up the courage to turn around. Nat is gifting you that all-knowing, panty ruining smirk, her arms folded over her breasts. And despite knowing better than to play dumb to a super-skilled huntress, you say, “I’m sorry? I don’t have a secret.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The smirk darkens on her perfectly rouged lips and you immediately cower in her presence and you quickly find yourself pinned against the bar. “Don’t play dumb with me, little bird.” You gulp, trying to focus on the redhead before you and not the literal goddess standing at the opposite end of the bar. “I’ve seen the way you look at the warrior. You’re not as subtle as you would like to believe.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dammit. What was supposed to be a casual, after-drinks in the kitchen was quickly dissolving into a deep-and-meaningful turned baring of all wounds. You shrug in defeat. “Fine. Brunnhilde is the woman of my dreams, 1000% out of my league and I am too chicken shit to even speak to her.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A shapely eyebrow quirks. “You should go talk to her. I think you’d be surprised.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>You snort a literal chest-rumbling snort. “Yeah right.” Shuffling your feet, you burn as dark eyes study you from the other end of the bar. “I’m a… I’m a nobody eco-scientist who thinks Friday nights in with a takeaway, wine, and The Real Housewives is a peak life choice. She…” The train full of what you thought were your clandestine thoughts and feelings is in full-speed and there is nothing you can do to stop the onslaught of word vomit about to roll out. “She is a freaking Goddess who saves lives, travels through space, and is an actual legend. We could not be more opposite. She is so strong and beautiful and I am average and lazy. I am nothing but chalk soil under her perfect boots. Wagner wrote a fucking opera about the Valkyrie? You know who wrote a song about a green-scientist? No one.” You barely hear a word that spews from your mouth, stuck in tunnel vision until soft hands come to rest on your cheeks.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Breathe.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>You take a shaky breath and glance over to see Brunnhilde has disappeared. And this is why you will be single forever and hoard cats.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Just as Natasha is about to say something, a resounding crash echoes through the kitchen as Tony, dressed in his Iron Man suit suddenly appears, the wooden floor now covered in glass. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t want you to panic,” he says, not even bothering to take his headpiece off, “but I may have pissed off a witch and she’s cursed us all. Pepper says I need to apologise and make it better, which is not going to happen because I was not in the wrong. She had it coming, with her yelling and throwing cat feet at me. Anyway, if you have any weird dreams, take it up with Rhodey and he...”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>You barely hear what he says as you glance around the frazzled room trying to find the beautiful Valkyrie. What if she had heard your spew confession? God, she must think you are the biggest loser. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>You barely sleep that night, alone in your large cold bed, your dreams filled with the deafening sound of what you think might be horse hooves circling you, the flap of giant wings shifting the air in the room. Getting out of bed the next morning and getting ready for work is an absolute chore, your body lethargic and sluggish. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You look rough,” Bucky whistles as you drag your sorry ass into the lab, two black coffees in hand and still wearing your sunglasses. Everything, and I mean everything, hurts. Your close friend and confidant is sitting on your stool, his feet resting on the sterilised table, a box of doughnuts beside him. “Drowning your sorrows because you can’t work up the courage to speak to the woman of your dreams? You know tequila isn’t your true friend.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>You all but shove the coffee into his thick chest, resting your head against his shoulder. “That has a big part in this hot mess, yes. I had the weirdest dreams last night.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>You jump, nearly spilling your coffee as Bucky rips his feet off of the table and towers over you, dropping his coffee onto the table. “You had weird dreams too? I kept having this crazy dream about Steve baking cupcakes in my kitchen wearing nothing but a Captain America apron and bright pink Doc Martens.” Thick hands land on your shoulders. “Doesn’t he know that pink clashes with red!?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Steve is the worst, Bucky,” you say, placing your hands over his, “I keep telling you this. His little collection of Captain American memorabilia…” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Grey eyes turn stormy as he pulls away from you. “Hang on. Didn’t Tony say something about a witch and a curse last night?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>You gasp and take an oversized sip of your coffee. “You’re right, I…”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sergeant Barnes,” FRIDAY suddenly announces causing you both to jump, “Captain Rogers would like to see you in the gym. He says it’s an emergency and that he has cupcakes to make up for missing your run this morning.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky groans grabbing his coffee and storming towards the door. He turns back to you as he rips the door open, the hinges creaking against the movement. “You take the nerd levels and I’ll take the non-nerd levels. Meet at 1600 with a report on all the weird dreams.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Three hours, four cups of coffee, and at least six doughnuts later you find yourself making your way to the medical department. You have spoken to every employee you have come across, even Martin in accounting who is the ultimate creep, and collated what data you could on all the strange dreams. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>This much you know so far: the dreams have varied wildly from the sweet and innocent to the absolute filthiest debauchery. Bruce clearly has a fantasy involving, of all things, macarons and you will never be able to look at another sweet goody the same ever again. Clint looked super cagey when you cornered him by the vending machine, only to break down and buy off your silence with salted caramel Oreos.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The coffee and sugar have done little to help your energy levels and you find yourself fighting back a yawn as you make your way through the hallways. A wave of exhaustion rolls over you as you enter Tony’s office to find it abandoned, personal belongings and small projects suddenly, and not surprisingly, disappeared. Rolling your eyes, you make your way to his mostly empty office, to find a lone piece of paper lying on the table. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>Sorry about the curse. Something came up. I am definitely not in Miami. Pepper is working on it.</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>You scoff, the wave of tiredness returning and make your way over to the plush couch. A ten-minute nap won’t hurt, right? The couch is, of course, comfortable, more so than your own bed and it doesn’t take long for you to be pulled into the land of slumber. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A sudden blanket of warmth pulls you from the soft, sweet doze, with your face pressed against the pillow and a small pool of drool drying beside you. You hum languidly as you stretch your muscles out, still heavy and sluggish with exhaustion. A shuddery gasp falls from your mouth as you feel plump lips press against the small of your back, your t-shirt slowly being pulled up by warm hands. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Am I dreaming?” you ask in a mellow, drawn-out tone only to hear a low hum. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A chuckle reverberates against your spine as those soft lips map a line up to your lace bralette. “If this is a dream,” Brunnhilde whispers, pressing herself against your back, caging you into the soft leather of the couch, “then it is a good dream. You’ve been thinking about me,” she hums, cupping your breasts through the lacy material. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Your skin is aflame under her hot touch and you can’t control the rhythm of your hips grinding up into her. “All the time. You’re a goddess.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Kisses dance along your cheek as a hand comes to grip your jaw, pulling you around to look into those dark, heated orbs. A heated kiss, her tongue softly exploring yours, your head swirls with mixed emotions…</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Because this can’t be real. Why would a Valkyrie, the most beautiful and brave woman you have ever met, find you on Tony Stark’s couch and willingly make out with you? That would be insane. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But, despite your hesitations, your body is so quick and willing to succumb to her touch. In fact, you welcome her touch, easily coaxed to turn around, your body burning against her weight. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As you languidly make out on the couch, needy and greedy hands exploring and testing boundaries, you can’t help but be taken aback by the comparisons of this dream to others. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Is it a little odd that you have daydreamt about playing tonsil hockey with the beautiful warrior on Tony’s couch? Possibly. However, in your defence, you’ve always wondered how comfortable the hefty price-tag furniture would be. You’re not disappointed and you wonder if it’s possible to steal it for your own apartment. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The biggest thing that stands out, however, is how real this feels. You can feel every pore, every hair stands up on your body under her heated touch. You can feel your panties cling to you as your arousal pools in the juncture of your thighs. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The light, fresh scent permeating from her skin and tight leather is intoxicating and vivid. Notes of coconut and bergamot tease you as you scent her neck, rolling your hips against her. The subtle bouquet of spicy pepper, lemon and musk linger in your senses as she encourages you to grind yourself against her stomach. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“This is so much hotter than I ever imagined,” you moan in delight as her fingers descend between the fabric of your panties and your skin, completely unaware of when or how she had unbuttoned your tight jeans. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It delights me to know you have been dreaming about me,” Brunnhilde purrs against your mouth before running her tongue along your lips. “You have been on my mind recently, too.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>You gasp as her long fingers pinch the sensitive jewel at the crest of your womanhood. “You’ve thought about me?” you ask, clinging onto the tight leather of her vest. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course, my little mortal. You’re an enchanting distraction in those long, boring mission meetings. The way you tease me with your pretty legs on display in your skirts, the trickle of moisture on your pen from your impish mouth. I’ve seen the way your eyes linger on me in the gym and I’ve thought about your heated gaze as I’ve touched myself in the shower after.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Oh god, okay, this is… fuck it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>You lurch forward and kiss her with so much clout, the Valkyrie is forced to take control and grips your face. Leading the kiss, she distracts you long enough to draw her fingers into your aching cunt. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Lost for words, you can only be pulled as she fucks you vigorously, drawing her thumb through your mouth and urges you to suck on her. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>You’ve been with women before, of course, and some men, however, none have been able to hurl you towards the precipice with such force and vigour. You can feel the accumulating arousal coating her hand as she brushes against your increasingly sensitive clit. So close already, you could cry. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Come for me, little mortal,” the dominant warrior commands, and on cue you do, seeing stars as lithe fingers refuse to let up. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Because this is a dream (right?), you’re shameless in your cries and whimpers. Who can hear if this is all in your imagination? A flurry of curses fly from your mouth as Brunnhilde works you through your orgasm, drawing it out for as long as she wants. It’s the greatest and hottest orgasm of your life, it’s such a shame that it’s just a dream.  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Still acquiescent, you whimper as she pulls her fingers from your sopping folds and licks them wickedly. “Back to sleep, little mortal. When you wake we will play again.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And you do, with the heated weight laying over you, you rest your head back onto the slightly damp pillow and slumber. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The slamming of a door and yelling yanks you from the peaceful sleep you are deep in, your head thumping angrily as you are blinded by the bright light of the room. Looking up you see Tony, Steve, Bucky, Thor, and Brunnhilde looking over you. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“The fuck, Tony? I thought you were in Miami?” Your voice is strained from the nap and it hurts to open your eyes. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Is that drool on my $2000 pillow?” Tony shrieks, pulling the pillow from underneath your resting arm. “Why are you napping on my couch?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe. And I’m napping because I came looking for you to see your coward note and I’m exhausted because your witchy friend fucked up my sleep pattern with weird dreams,” you snap, snatching back the pillow. “Why are you back, Benedict Arnold? Are you going to fix the mess you made?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Brunnhilde chuckles, her chocolate eyes sparkling and you immediately feel a rush of heat against your cheeks. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, I’ve come to fix the problem,” Tony snarkily replies. “You’re welcome.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>You slowly stand up, your muscles protesting against the forced movement. You’d slept deeper than you have imagined. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Um, why are your jeans undone?” Bucky asks in a loud whisper, forcing the pillow in your hands in front of your jeans. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you talking about?” Looking down you gasp. “Why aren’t my buttons done up? Oh god, did I…” You think back to your dream and instantly recognise the longing and knowing smirk on Brunnhilde’s smile. “Oh, fucking shit…” Your hands fumble to do up your buttons and frantically try to do them up. “Right, well… I’m going to go and die of embarrassment somewhere private.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>You don’t make it to the elevator before a hand grips yours and you’re pulled into an empty office. The blood rushes to your head and you grip onto the desk as the tall Valkyrie shuts the door. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Are we going to talk about this or would you like to keep hiding from the truth?” Her voice is rich, like caramel and immediately a surge of arousal careens through your core. You can’t help but feel flustered as she slowly makes her way over to you. “What just happened wasn’t a dream, that much is clear. Have you dreamt about me making you come undone on Stark’s couch before?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>You scoff. “And then some.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The smirk on her fucking pouty lips grows. “We will revisit that later. I’ve been dreaming about you for weeks, but last night, the dream was so vivid. It literally sucked the life from me. This afternoon I fell asleep during Bruce’s TED Talk and dreamt about you. And well...”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“The best orgasm of my life?” you offer weakly and she chuckles. “So that really happened? I thought I was dreaming…” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Dream walking, lucid dreaming. Whatever it was, the witch’s curse is clearly at play here.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Your brow furrows and your stomach sinks a little. “Do you regret it?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A soft kiss dances along your lips as warm hands cup your face. “Absolutely not, little moral, I only regret that Tony took away our chance of making the most of that luxurious couch.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A husky breath escapes your lips at her confession and you catch your bottom lip between your teeth. “Then perhaps we could make the most of this abandoned office or you could come over tonight and I can cook you something. Maybe show you what I’ve dreamt about happening in my bed.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Her kiss is starved and demanding, her thigh coming to rest at the juncture of your thighs. “I will be over at 8 pm. Wear something pretty.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>*************************</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Five hours later you find yourself placing the salad onto the table. The salad is pre-sex food because tonight you’re getting down with a goddess and you need all the energy you can muster. Fussing over the candles flickering around the room, you want this to be perfect. And by perfect you mean you’ve spent the last two hours scrubbing your small apartment from top to bottom, despite it already being clean, and scrubbing yourself silly in the shower. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The silk lingerie, thanks to a quick stop at some overpriced boutique in Manhattan, caresses your skin underneath the very see-through white t-shirt you wear and the short shorts. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A firm knock on the door pulls you from your obsessing and you race to the door. Wrenching the door open you’re greeted by the vision of Brunnhilde in a pair of ridiculously tight jeans and a t-shirt. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, shit…” you hum, drinking her in. “Come in…”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>You don’t get to finish your welcome, the Valkyrie pouncing on you. Your back connects with the wall in your apartment, the door slamming behind you as you greedily fight to control the kiss. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this,” she huskily moans, peppering your skin with heated kisses. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m thinking about as long as I have,” you grin salaciously, taking her cheeks in your hands. “You hungry? I have sala…” Your words are swallowed by her kiss again. “Yeah me either.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A throaty giggle escapes your lips as she pulls you further into the apartment and towards your bedroom. Her lips are on yours as you cross the threshold into the small bedroom, hungry and demanding. Strong hands rip the shirt from your upper body and she is quick to explore the exposed skin. Teeth and tongue agonize and examine every inch of you as she furiously wrenches your shorts over your legs. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>You can only grip onto her plaited ponytail for dear life as she feverishly studies you further. Kneeling before you, a tongue lathes at your clothed core, and you can’t help but mewl. “Fuck, please.” Your grin is coquettish as she suddenly towers over you, caging your face with her hands. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Would you like my tongue in your sweet little pussy? Hmmm?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Oh fuck… “Please, god fuck yes please.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Brunnhilde chuckles, forcing you back until your knees hit the edge of your mattress. “You ask so nicely,” she purrs, her fingers trailing over the soft lace of your panties. “Do you like to be told what to do?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Oh shit. “Yes.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A breathy sigh dances along your lips as she brings her face closer to yours. “Be a good girl and take off the rest of your clothes for me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Oh boy, a tsunami of heat descends upon your core and you have to fight the urge to grind yourself against her thick thigh. That would be nice but… oh god, the heated way she watches spurs you to act. You slowly pull the bralette over your head before pushing the panties over your thighs and allowing them to drop to the floor. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Your stomach combusts as she drops before you, picks up your panties and pockets them. “Something to enjoy later,” she huskily confesses before standing back up and pushing you back onto the bed. “Lean back up on your elbows and put your feet flat on the mattress. I want you to watch me eat you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>You swear to god you can feel a trickle of arousal seep out onto the old comforter. Quick to comply, you watch on as she slowly removes her clothing, her eyes fixed on yours. Her body is long and lithe, her muscles strong yet subtle. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And then she dips onto the bed, crawling towards you, her eyes still fucking locked on yours. You can’t breathe as she finally drops her gaze and examines you carefully. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So pretty,” she hums, running a finger through your folds and over your taut clit. You could combust right here and now. “I wonder what you taste like.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She doesn’t wait long to find out, dropping her head to your pussy and drawing her tongue through you. You instantly grip the comforter, nearly ripping the old and worn-out material, desperately trying not to grind against her tongue. Firm hands hold your hips in place as she begins her slow, torturous dance along your walls and pulling away before your clit.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>You’re a sopping, hot mess, wailing and begging for more as she teases and torments you, stopping short of that bundle of nerves longing to be touched. Nonsensical blabbering joins the symphony of lude wet arousal and starved moans. The occasional chuckle vibrates through your hypersensitive nerves and tissue. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When the Valkyrie finally unleashes on your clit, the comforter soaked at the juncture of your thighs and your head swimming, it’s not long before the world stops. Your body has never submitted like this before, your hips jutting against her tongue as her hands seek out yours and she gently licks you through the peak of your orgasm. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s not until you’ve finally hit the bottom of the earth, your orgasm a slow buzz through your nerves and muscles, that you breathe. Your gasp is wrought and destitute, your chest heaving as you greedily suck in the air. Small tears prickle at your eyes as salty, heady lips seek out yours and you repeatedly and weakly thank her. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>You kiss languidly and slowly as she pins you to the bed, slowly rubbing her wet cunt along the length of your thigh. Brunnhilde gasps as you work up the courage to draw your fingers through her lips. Gasping, she pulls you up and onto her lap, her back now resting against the mountain of pillows. Gripping your hand, she encourages you between her legs again. You slip your fingers into her heated and aroused channel, getting lost in the soft warmth. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Good girl,” she purrs, slowly sliding her fingers into your own warmth. Pouty lips swallow the gasp that falls from your lips, your hips instantly rise and falling onto her long fingers. “Ride my fingers, little mortal, and I will make you see the heavens.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Oh god, you want that. Encouraged, you double down your efforts, concentrating on the bundle of nerves at the juncture of her thighs, mirroring her precise and effective movements. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Still sensitive from the orgasm that literally tore you piece by piece, it doesn’t take you long to reach the precipice. Your body quakes as you grind against her fingers, racing that high for as long as you can, your eyes locked on those heavenly chocolate orbs. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>With a guttural cry, Brunnhilde encourages you to lay down between her thighs. She is soft and sweet like honey, utterly intoxicating. You hope this happens again because you would happily spend hours lapping and drowning right here.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Concentrating your tongue on her clit, you lose yourself in her heady nectar and the firm grip on your hair. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Is this a dream? Is this some fucked up long-ass dream as you sleep during one of Bruce’s TED Talks with drool dribbling down your chin?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Oh, wait no, that is… </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The sound the legendary Valkyrie makes as she comes is like a song; you could definitely hear this over and over again, the rise and fall of her pitch, the sultry, guttural timbre. Her hands keep you firmly in place as she grinds against your tongue, directing the direction and gradient of her orgasm. Which is… </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>This is magic. The Asgardians do everything better. It’s official. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>You’re pulled from the dreamy clouds of some weird land in space where Gods rule as you are drawn up into a messy kiss. A lazy, satisfied smile plays along your lips as you snuggle into the warmth of her body. “I’m hungry. Wanna order some pizza?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Brunnhilde chuckles, wrapping her arms around your waist and holds you tightly. “What about the salad you prepared?”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Oh, that was pre-sex food. Post-sex calls for greasy food, wine, and a bath.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She hums, lowering her hands onto the globes of your ass. “My little eco-warrior, what I have planned for you will require all your energy. I’m far from done with you. I will make it worth all your while waiting for the pizza.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>*************************</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There’s a spring in your step as you bounce into the lab the next morning, coffee in hand and a song on your lips. Bucky is on your stool, feet on your desk, breakfast burritos, and his eyes shaded with your favourite Ray-Ban wayfarers he had stolen on your last vacation. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Morning, Buckster,” you joyfully sing-song only to be greeted with a long, drawn-out groan. “Steve haunting your dreams again?”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The brunette can only wail, violently pulling his legs from the table and sulkily throwing his arms around you. “Steve burnt down the kitchen and my soul.” You carefully pat his back, cautious of the hot coffee in your hand. “Why are you so cheery?” He asks, pulling away and leaning against the bench. “You seem… different. Like you…” Stormy eyes widen comically and his eyebrows jump up. “Oh my god, you had sex!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>You smile slyly, passing him the fresh coffee. “Not just any sex, Bucky. </span>
  <em>
    <span>The</span>
  </em>
  <span> sex. The best sex. Toe-curling, life-ruining good sex. It’s the kind of sex you write home about, but you really shouldn’t tell your mother about… That’s kinda gross actually…”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The intercom shrieks causing you both to jump. And then you hear FRIDAY announce: “Tony Stark would like it to be known that he did everything he could to try and appease the witch bitch. It’s not his fault that the old she-rat was offended by his peace offering of cosmetic surgery. Therefore, he would like to apologise for the inconvenience of the new curse. Please be wary of the giant rat creatures that have started appearing in the air vents. You are welcome to take a long weekend whilst the building is fumigated.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Trust Tony to ruin our lives,” Bucky grumbles, taking his burrito. “I’m going home before a giant rat comes for my food. I suggest you do the same.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The corridors are eerily quiet, you had expected there to be a mass panic of employees trying to escape the Tower. That is until you find yourself face-t0-face with a five-foot-tall rat. FRIDAY hadn’t been kidding about them being massive. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Your mouth opens to let out a blood-curdling scream until a hand covers your lips and strong arms wrap around your waist. Pulling you into the deserted office, you’re met by the gorgeous Valkyrie who you had not long left at the entrance to the building. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Couldn’t stay away from me?” she teases, caressing her fingers over your face. “Wait right here. I’m going to go slaughter the giant creature and then I’m taking you back home and make the most of this impromptu long weekend.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Watching the warrior is… well, it’s the hottest thing you have ever seen. Despite being covered in thick, tar-like liquid, you don’t make it back to your apartment. Locking yourselves in the deserted office, you make the most of the sturdy desk and Tony’s very comfortable couch. </span>
</p>
<p>
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  <br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I hope you enjoyed this! Feedback is always welcome x</p></blockquote></div></div>
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